


John Winchester`s guide to raising the antichrists

by foggysundays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Growing Up, POV John Winchester, Single Parent John Winchester, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggysundays/pseuds/foggysundays
Summary: Being a single parent isn´t easy even under the best of circumstances. But raising two boys without a mother while being on the road and chasing nightmares is bound to drive even the most stoic person out of their mind.This is suppost to be a collection of stories about John fighting his way through diaper changes and teenage drama, while his sons are doing their very best to make his life a bit more interesting.Mostly humor and fluff!Ch.1: John and Dean talk about the birds and the beesCh.2: Sammy really, really wants a petCh.3: Dean has to save both John and Sam from the monster in their bedroomCh.4: Teachers don´t always appreciate the genius of a Winchester





	1. The Talk

John Winchester was a tough guy, anyone could tell you that.

He had survived the horrors of Vietnam only to be thrown in to a very different war back home after his wife had been brutally murdered by a creature out of a nightmare.

He had started to hunt monsters and kill things that were much superior to him in both strength and speed, he had never once faltered, had never hesitated to do the right thing at the right time. You could say he was an all-around-badass, he was feared and respected by supernatural creatures and hunters both, and he was definitely not someone you´d like to meet in a dark back alley.

John Winchester was also fucking terrified of his teenage son.

Dean was fourteen now, a teenager in all the ways that mattered and John had seen the way his boy had started looking at girls. His eyes no longer held the slight disgust and reluctant fascination that was still prominent in Sam´s gaze when confronted with a female around his age. No, Dean had started to _look_ , had started to let his gaze linger and Jesus, that boy was charming and pretty enough to talk the pants off of anyone.

Girls his age wouldn’t stand the slightest chance.

John was well aware that it was time, that he couldn’t put up the inevitable any longer if he didn’t want to end up as a grandad even before his oldest was allowed to drive legally.

So he pulled himself together, took a long drink from his flask for courage and told Dean that they needed to talk.

His boy threw another flirty grin at the housekeeping girl and then strolled over to where John was sitting, satisfaction clear in his gaze and John was pretty sure he´d just scored a number. Good lord, that girl was at least five years his senior! Yeah, it was definitely time to have that fucking talk.

“What is it, Dad? Did you find another hunt? Want me to bury myself in the library for more intel?”

Dean´s gaze was excited and eager – he might not be a big fan of research, but the kid was well aware of its importance. And the prospect of being able to help John on the hunt was of yet still enough to ensure his enthusiasm even for this seemingly boring task.

John gulped and wished he could have another sip of whiskey without Dean noticing.

“No, no hunt. At least that is not what I wanted to talk to you about right now. You see, Dean, you´re fourteen now and I know that a boy your age might start to become more interested in girls. I just wanted to make sure that you are aware of the basics and the risks you might be taking. I know this is embarrassing and probably the last thing you want to talk to your old man about, but believe me – this is far worse for me than it is for you! So, well…. You see, if there is a boy and a girl and they like each other very much….”

John then started a long, long rant about the mechanics of sex, he talked about erections and vaginas, about condoms and other means of contraception. There was an absolutely mortifying part about STD´s and pregnancy, and some general rules about how to treat a girl. John even tried to venture into the big awkwardness of homosexual sex, but quickly settled on the simple assurance that he wouldn’t judge, and then told Dean to look up the details in the library or something. No way he was talking to his fourteen-year-old about anal sex!

After an excruciating thirty minutes of stuttering and stammering on his part and total silence from his son, John finally concluded with an, “I just want you to know that you can talk to me about everything, Dean. No matter what, we´ll figure it out,” and mentally high-fived himself for being a responsible and understanding parent.

He´d definitely need several drinks tonight, though. Strong ones.

John´s eyes tried to catch the green ones of his son then, concern flooding him when he noticed that Dean had buried his face in his hands and was shaking uncontrollably. But before he even had the chance to ask what was wrong, the boy made a chocking noise and then burst out laughing. John couldn’t do anything but sit and stare at the teenager who was currently trying to stay upright on his chair while violent laughter shook his whole body. The giggling ebbed away occasionally only to erupt anew as soon as they made eye contact. It took nearly five minutes until Dean had quieted down enough to talk in coherent sentences again.

John had the suspicion that he should probably feel insulted by Dean´s behavior, but he was still riding the high of having made it through _the Talk_ without throwing up, and so decided to let it slide.

“Jeez, Dad! That right there was the funniest speech I´ve heard in my entire life! Seriously, that was hilarious! And thank you by the way, for being all supportive and parental and shit, but well… Dad, I´ve been having sex since I turned thirteen. _Thirteen_ , Dad! It was really not necessary to tell me all of that right now!” A shit eating grin formed on the young face in front of him. “Very entertaining, though! Oh, and don´t worry, I´ve been using condoms each and every time, so there´s no chance of accidental grandchildren or me dying of some weird STD anytime soon.”

John just stared at his son in disbelieve. That little fucker had already known. Had known and had let him embarrass himself anyway, had enjoyed it, even. Fucking teenagers!

“Sorry, Dad. I should probably have stopped you earlier but I just didn’t have the heart. I had the feeling you´ve been preparing that speech for a long time, didn’t want to let all that effort go to waste!”

Dean stood up from his chair then, and grabbed his jacket. “If that was all you wanted to talk about, I better get going! Can´t be late for my date with that cute waitress from the diner yesterday!” That smug grin was back again and John watched as his oldest swaggered over to the door.

“Oh, and by the way: Don´t worry about Sammy! Already got that one covered, though I´m pretty sure that little nerd will read at least ten books on the topic before even _thinking_ about real sex. Well, I might even show him a trick or two once he´s older. Definitely gonna buy him some condoms as soon as he shows any interest. So, no need for you to give that speech a second time, Dad. Unless you want to, of course! You know, only practice makes you perfect!” With that Dean disappeared through the door.

John groaned and let his head fall on the table. _Fucking hell_ , how had he raised such a smart-ass? The little shit wasn’t even the tiniest bit embarrassed, quite the contrary really. He should have known that Dean was already running around chasing skirts because _of course_ he was. This right here was a perfectly fine example of self-denial. Freaking perfect, Winchester. And of fucking course Dean had already told Sammy everything he knew. These two were inseparable and would never keep a thing of such importance from one another. Now all John had to worry about was what Dean meant by “showing him a trick or two”. As far as his oldest was concerned this could mean anything from teaching his brother how to flirt to charming some girl into showing Sam how to kiss. God, he was so screwed!

It took John another four drinks to acknowledge the fact that his fourteen-year-old son might actually be getting way more action than he himself did.


	2. Doctor Dolittle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sammy deserves to have a pet and since he never got to have a dog and a moose simply wouldn´t fit into the Impala....

Two shiny hazel eyes were staring up at him, tears threatening to fall on trembling lips, pleading with him to finally see reason. Well, at least for Sam this was pleading, John himself was pretty sure that it was just a very cute form of blackmail.

He sighed. °But only under one condition….”

From one moment to the other, no trace of tears could be found anywhere on Sam´s suddenly beaming face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy! You are the bestest Daddy ever! I promise I will care for him and feed him and give him a bath and….”

“Sammy!” John tried not to laugh at his son´s enthusiasm but failed spectacularly. “Sam, I´m sorry, but we will not be able to keep him. No, come on baby boy! No crying! I know it is hard to leave a friend behind, but a car is no place for a hedgehog. He wouldn’t be happy with us. But I promise to let you keep him for the time it takes his leg to heal. _If_ you take good care of him, of course, I will not tolerate any hedgehog poo in the motel room, okay? Great. Now go show your new pet to Dean!”

Sam was on his way without a second thought, his pleasure at introducing Harry the Hedgehog to his brother greater than the prospect of losing the animal once they had to move again. And John had no false hopes whatsoever – there would be tears once the inevitable separation came, lots of them. But for now, his son was happy and that made the thoughts of eventual emotional breakdowns tolerable. He felt a bit sorry for Dean, though, the poor boy would probably be sharing his bed with his brother _and_ the hedgehog for the foreseeable future. Well, at least Sammy hadn’t come across a skunk this time.

Sam was in what his teachers liked to call his Doctor-Dolittle-phase. Sounded cute but in practice this meant that his youngest brought home an endless stream of animal after animal, and had to be talked out of keeping them. John had no clue how he did it, but Sam was like catnip for every wounded animal in a twenty-mile radius. Up until now there had been three kittens, five rats, a fawn, a piglet, two racoons, five birds of different kinds and the infamous skunk. John had decided to stay clear of any major forest areas or wildlife parks. For all he knew, Sam would happily kidnap some poor bear cub or moose calf just for the hell of it.

Dean, as always, took the whole thing with good grace. He helped his brother to care for the animals, cleaned up behind the six-year-old and his newest friend, and grudgingly allowed them into his bed. It was also mostly Dean who comforted the kid after yet another tearful goodbye.

John was no idiot and he had talked to enough teachers to know that those animals probably were Sammy´s way of dealing with his lack of steady friends and a constant home, but there was not much he could do about that. Hunting was not simply a job, it was a lifestyle and while he was well aware of the sacrifices his boys had to make, he simply didn’t see another option. It was either move or miss important clues and leads, and he wasn’t about to let Mary´s murderer go unchallenged, even if it meant that his boys had to grow up faster than normal kids. It was better for them, anyway. Safer. He wouldn’t let another member of his family go out there unprepared.

Some of the teachers he had talked to had suggested getting a dog. And John had thought about that long and hard, but in the end…. It would only be that much harder to find a motel that allowed dogs, it would make them more noticeable, more vulnerable. After all, there was quite a large number of things out there that could control the minds of animals, and he would never let himself endanger his boys like that. Not to mention that they simply couldn’t handle the amount of care such an animal needed. There was also the very real possibility of the animal being killed by some supernatural creature – the loss would be incredibly hard on both of his boys and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Which meant that he had to accept the nearly weekly new addition to their family…. Sammy would grow out of it eventually.

Of course, them being the Winchesters, things didn’t turn out quite as John had planned.

It was approximately three months after Harry the Hedgehog had found a new home in a nearby park area, when Sam stumbled home with something big, black and feathery clutched to his chest. Dean took one look at the animal and groaned loudly, but hurried to pull their first aid kit from his duffel anyway. John understood his obvious lack of enthusiasm: it was another freaking raven. Those birds were way too intelligent and nosy for anyone´s comfort, they loved to hop around und pick at things and the last one Sam had brought home had shown an unhealthy obsession with digging holes into the Impala´s upholstery. Decidedly _not_ the way to endear itself to the older two Winchesters. To make matters worse, that bloody bird had also refused to eat anything but insects and snails which quickly lead to Sam bringing in boxes full of bugs and other disgusting things. Dean had been picking insects from his duffel for weeks after that.

As it turned out, this bird did none of the above. It was a huge animal, it´s body nearly half the size of Sam´s but it´s demeanor surprisingly gentle and tame. It would follow Sam around like an overeager puppy, occasionally even hopping on Dean´s shoulder if he got close enough for the bird to cross the distance. It had been Dean who treated its broken wing, resetting the joint and bandaging it – in another life his son would probably have made an amazing doctor…

Sam had called the raven Hitchcock on Dean´s insistence but it mainly went by Hitch and John observed with growing restlessness that both of his boys were getting attached to the bird.

Predictably, saying goodbye to the newly healed animal proved to be even more difficult than usual, even the ever-stoic Dean did sport some suspiciously wet eyes but there was nothing to be done about it.

Well, at least that was what John thought - until he got out of the car eight hours later and found himself face to face with a rather smug looking Hitch.

John just shook his head and told his boys to take the bloody bird to their room. He had the feeling that they had just gained a fourth family member, whether he liked it or not.


	3. Eight-legged horrors

A loud screech tore through the lazy warmth of the cloudless summer night, the sound of it shrill and fearful, punching through his consciousness like a sledgehammer and having him shoot upright, gun already in his hands and frantic eyes looking for any trace of danger. Finding none, John lowered his weapon and tried to get a handle on his wild heartbeat and the rush of adrenaline that was buzzing trough his body. Only then did he turn back to his youngest son, taking in the quivering body of the eight-year-old pressed tightly against the wall behind his back, eyes wide and fixed on some horror that only he could see.

Dean had been out of bed and ready to defend his brother just as quickly as John, but the complete lack of any threat had him rush to his brother´s side a second later, his calm voice whispering assurances and solace even as he pulled Sam to his chest.

John kept his distance, knowing all too well that Sam would respond much better to the presence of his brother than to that of his own father. He was also quite aware that it should be **his** job to comfort his son, not Dean´s – but this dynamic had been established a long, long while ago and while far from ideal, it was convenient.

“Shh, it´s okay, Sammy. I´m here now. I´ll protect you, little brother. Just some stupid nightmare, nothing in here is going to hurt you, I´ll make sure of it.”

Sammy buried his face deeper into Dean´s neck, his small hands digging into his brother´s sleeping shirt. “Not a dream, De! It´s still there, I can _still_ see it. Please, _please_ you have to make it go away!”

Dean had stiffened at the words, worried eyes scanning the room once more just as John did the same, but there was nothing to be seen. No sign of any other lifeform, the salt lines and sigils were still intact, none of them buzzing in alarm.

“What are you talking about, Sammy? There´s nothing in here, I promise.”

“You don´t understand, Dean! It´s _there_! Up on the ceiling! De, it´s crawling closer! Get it out, get it out, get it out!”

Both John and Dean followed Sam´s shaking fingers, their gazes going up and up and – oh _hell_ no!

John could feel the blood drain from his face, his muscles locking up while he stared at the black dot right above his head in silent horror. Oh God, why couldn’t it have been shtriga, a shapeshifter, a _fucking wendigo_! Anything, anything but this!

Dean´s amused chuckles filled the sudden silence in the room, his voice sounding way too cheerful when he answered. “Jesus, Sammy! That´s just a spider! A tiny, innocent little spider! It´s definitely not going to hurt you!”

“I _know_ that, jerk! But it´s gross! There´s just too many legs, it looks vicious!”

“Don´t get your panties in a twist, little brother! Jesus Christ! We´ll save you from the little monster spider in a moment, right Dad? We don’t even have to kill it, Dad can just throw it back outside…. Uh, Dad? .... Dad! Are you alright?”

John pulled himself together and tried to tear his gaze away from the offending arachnid, but couldn’t help the involuntary steps he took to put more room between him and that _thing_.

His sons were both staring at him bemusedly for a moment, before sudden comprehension flooded Dean´s eyes, quickly followed by disbelieve and then overflowing mirth, bubbles of laughter bursting from his lips. “Aww, shit! You as well?!”

John had never felt more than a petulant child than in this very moment. He could barely stop his lips from forming an angry pout, his son´s laughter doing nothing to appease his ego. So what! Everyone was scared of _something_! For some people it was heights, for others, bacteria and him, well, he didn’t like spiders. Sue him. He was busy killing humanities worst nightmares week after week, he was allowed to dislike spiders!

While Dean tried his best not to choke on his own laughter, both Sam and John kept an eye on the eight-legged monster. Spiders were sneaky after all, constantly moving and disappearing as soon as you gave them the chance.

“DEAN! It´s moving again! Come on, come on, you have to catch it! _Please_!”

The honest fear in Sammy´s voice finally got Dean to move. He pulled up a chair and put it on top of his bed, climbing up as soon as John had managed to gather enough courage to at least steady the chair while Dean used it as a makeshift ladder.

Still chuckling, his oldest scooped the little intruder up in his hands and jumped down to carry it back outside.

John and Sam shared a relieved and sympathetic look behind his back. Seemed as if they had finally found at least one thing they had in common.


	4. School adventures

The picture was very colorful, wild lines crisscrossing the white paper and forming vague shapes that _could_ be described as somewhat humanoid - if you had a very imaginative mind and felt generous enough, that is. Well then, Sammy was probably not going to be the new van Gogh after all, but John had always thought that painting was not a very fitting occupation for a Winchester anyway. He frowned and pulled the paper closer. Little Sammy certainly seemed to love the color red.

The tiny kindergarten teacher looked up at him with eyes full of distress. “Can you now see what I meant with problematic? I can´t even begin to fathom what a five-year-old must have been exposed to in order to draw such violent pictures!”

John blinked. Seeing as he couldn’t even tell what that picture was about, he certainly didn’t see the violent part that Sam´s teacher was freaking out about. Somehow, he was sure that she wasn’t talking about Sam´s blatant abuse of school supplies.

Fortunately, the woman was only all too happy to explain the drawing to him when he voiced his shameful ignorance.

“Well, the explanation I got from Sam is that this actually shows both you and his brother Dean in a fight with what he called werepires? You are currently in the process of beheading them, which explains all that blood in his drawing.  According to Sam, you are some kind of superhero that travels across the country to save people from evil monsters. His hero-worship is actually rather cute, but I really need to ask you to keep Sam from reading his brother´s comic books. I can´t have him telling more gruesome stories to the other children, there´s already been parents complaining about a recent increase in nightmares!”

John did what he had to do to appease the teacher, nodding and agreeing in all the right places and finally promising to talk to Sam about spreading more of his fantastic stories. They certainly needed to have some sort of talk, he couldn’t have his children drawing more attention to them and Sam needed to understand that there were certain things they could never talk about when civilians were present.

If Sam´s werepire picture found its way into the deep abyss that was John´s duffel bag, no one ever needed to know about it. After all, he might only be a humanoid doodle on a scruffy piece of paper but in the eyes of his youngest he was still a superhero.

 

* * *

 

 

John stared at his thirteen-year-old son and did his best to keep a stern face that conveyed enough parental displeasure to appease the two teachers sitting across from him. Judging by their icy glares he probably didn’t do a very good job.

Dean, to his credit, was a much more talented actor – his small body was huddled on the chair, shoulders and head dropping low and eyes downcoast, he was the very picture of remorse and apology. Well, at least to anyone but John who had already seen the mischievous glint in his oldest son´s eyes. Of course Dean wouldn’t feel story for what he did.

John sighed.

“I know this is rather… unconventional but I´m afraid so is the education of my sons. They usually spend their summer breaks at a friend´s house, he´s a pastor and started to teach them Latin a few years back to keep them occupied. You know how boys are at that age, running around and planning mischief all the time, so we were quite happy to find a harmless hobby that stuck. Dean here has taken to Latin like a fish to water and his fluent in it by now. With all due respect but if he says you made a mistake, I actually tend to believe him.”

He made sure to meet the enraged gaze of Dean´s unfortunate Latin teacher and signaled his son to lower his head again. The self-satisfied smirk on the boy´s face wouldn’t help anyone right now.

“Mr. Winchester, I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation! Your son made a fool of me in front of the whole class! It is very important that there´s a respectful relationship between a teacher and his students, I can´t have them laughing at me because your son doesn’t know when to keep his comments to himself!”

John raised an eyebrow. “I´m aware that Dean here can be a smartass and he will apologize if he insulted you, however unintentional it was. But I also think that if you made enough mistakes for a thirteen-year-old to notice, then maybe you should check your grammar more thoroughly next time.”

As it turned out, he shouldn’t have said that. Teachers apparently didn’t take too kindly to students who were more knowledgeable than they were, and rubbing salt into the wound didn’t help at all. Well, at least Dean could spend his three days of suspension with helping him translate that book on Norse lore Bobby had send him three days ago.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mr. Winchester? This is Director Jane Miller of Durham High, I´m calling because of your son Sam? I´m afraid there has been an incident at school today, we´d appreciate you coming in this afternoon to discuss the events with both your son and his gym teacher, Mr. Huxley.”

John dragged a hand down his face and agreed to be at Sam´s school at three p.m. the same afternoon. At least it was not Dean this time.

 

WWW

“Hold on! He did what?”

“I really don´t know what is so amusing about this situation, Mr. Winchester. Your son deliberately endangered both Mr. Huxley and his fellow students! And not only that, he openly criticized our self-defense class and called it useless! Self-defense is a very important part of our curriculum and we can´t have students not taking part in it just because your son claims that it is useless.”

John couldn’t help but grin at the man in question. Ben Huxley was _6_ ″ _1‘ of hard muscle with a military haircut and unfriendly eyes. “So you´re telling me that an eight year old boy barley half your size has not only managed to counter each of your attacks but has also knocked you out for ten minutes straight? I don’t know what sort of self-defense you are teaching, Mr. Huxley, but if it renders you useless in a fight against a freaking kid_ _,_ _then you should probably think about trying a different approach!”_

_WWW_

Ok, so maybe John really needed to start working on his teacher skills. He patted the shoulder of his youngest son who was currently not very happy with himself.

“I´m sorry, Sam. I know how important school is to you and how much you hate suspension. But one week is not the end of the world and hey, how about you invite those classmates of yours and we´ll show them some of our moves, huh? I´m sure Dean will be happy to help. And to be honest, I would actually pay money to see some kid knock out that douchebag of a gym teacher once more. What do you say, Sammy?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean, what did I tell you about beating up other kids?”

Dean snorted. “They were seniors, Dad! Three of them! Freaking huge and muscular, too! And total douchebags, beating up the nerds to steal their lunch money! I couldn’t just stand there and watch for fucks sake!”

John sighed and cursed the day Dean had learned to knock people out without breaking a sweat. “You could at least _try_ to talk to them first next time. Or call a teacher – Yes, I know that there´s not much they can do about it, but I also have better things to do than bail you out of detention every other week! And you got yourself suspended. Again! That´s the third time this month alone, Dean. If I have to go to one more parent-teacher-talk I´ll just go and shoot myself first. Less painful that way.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Mr. Winchester, my name is Brittany Lewis of St. Peter´s High and I´m calling on behalf of your son Dean.”

John groaned in despair and started digging for his whiskey flask.

“Mrs. Lewis, I can only apologize for whatever that boy has done now. What was it this time? Did he blow up the bathroom? Kidnap all the mice meant for dissection? Oh God, please tell me he hasn’t tried to seduce his English teacher again! I swear that boy has no sense of propriety!”

Loud coughing that was clearly meant to disguise laughter echoed throw the phone. “None of that, Mr. Winchester. I´m actually calling because Dean has submitted a very interesting project to our engineering contest last month and I´m very happy to inform you that he has made the first place and is now allowed to attend the state-wide competition in Houston next month.”

“ _What_!?”

She was laughing openly now.

“I can assure you that this is not a joke, Mr. Winchester. To be honest, Dean is actually one of my brightest students. It has been a pleasure working with him and I´m looking forward to seeing more of his ideas. Judging by your earlier statement he certainly is very creative.”

Half an hour later found John driving to the closest supermarket to get some pie, after all Dean had just provided him with his first pleasant parent-teacher interaction in years and deserved a reward for that alone. And if he was also proud of his oldest son for winning the competition there was certainly no better way to express that than by buying him pie.


End file.
